


she was the sky and sea melting into each other

by laylax



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Greek mythology fic, archie as ares, obviously angst ensues, veronica as aphrodite, you'll either love it or hate it i don't think there's an in between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 01:29:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laylax/pseuds/laylax
Summary: Archie shakes his head rapidly, eyes lingering on the birthmark on her left shoulder. It looks like a misshapen heart, remnants of something incredible. He sighs, taking in a deep breath. “It’s just..” She’s waiting for an answer, breath hitched and eyes glistening under poorly hung fairy lights. “You seem like trouble.”She seems like she could break him.Veronica’s smile doesn’t falter, it widens instead, morphs into an amused grin. “When has that ever stopped you before?” She laughs. She’s right and they both know it.





	she was the sky and sea melting into each other

i.

 

 

He hears the stories long before he meets her; the goddess of love in all her beauty and heavenly ways. It sounds too good to be true. So he does the same as everyone who’s never met her— he doubts.

 

It’s easier to have no faith in a myth than it is to chase a daydream.

 

He meets her on the battlefield, of all places. A dark silhouette, helping fallen soldiers onto their feet. He’s never seen anything so reckless. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” She must be. The city surrounding them is nothing but ash; condemned houses and broken homes.

 

She looks up at him, eyes wide and piercing. He feels it right there, the helplessness so many before him have spoken of. He can see into his future, see his heart aching for her for the rest of his life. “These men are hurt, they need help,” she tells him, brushes past him toward the next one.

 

He thinks she might be insane. Of course, they’re hurt, it’s a _war_. Still, he helps her, because he can’t seem to stop. Can’t seem to shift his gaze off of her or focus on anything that isn’t her.

 

It’s only once the field has been cleared, soldiers returned home bruised and bloody, when he’s basking in the victory— his victory— that he notices she’s still there.

 

“I’ve heard stories about you,” she tells him. She looks as radiant as the sun, if not more. He knows who she is without asking for a name, he’s heard enough about her; said to be the most beautiful and sought-after goddess of her time. Honey-comb skin, enchanting brown eyes, and a smile that can bring the most powerful gods to their knees. “Archie Andrews,” he falls in love with the sound of his name falling from her lips in the middle of a forsaken arena, “you certainly like to make a mess.”

 

It’s a long three seconds before he reaches out and takes her hand, shakes it slowly. “Veronica Lodge,” she says with a smile that nearly stops his heart, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Likewise,” he says softly.

 

* * *

 

 

She walks him to a bar, takes his hand in hers and leads him through cobblestone streets and crowded sidewalks until they find it.

 

He can feel all eyes on them from the moment they walk in. No, not on them, on Veronica. The lights are blindingly bright and it only contribute to the headache he’s sporting, forcing him to shut his eyes until they’re seated somewhere behind the bar and out of view.

 

She pauses when she looks at him, her hair neatly pushed behind her ears, eyes wide and inviting. “God, you look awful,” she muses and he chuckles. She bites her lip, shakes her head only half apologetically. “Don’t worry,” she assures him and he’s never felt as helpless as he does in this very moment. “It’s mostly just the blood and dirt.”

 

“Good to know,” he scoffs, wonders if she’s aware of how wildly his heart is beating away. He clears his throat, picks up a ripped menu to distract himself. “So, what brings you into town?”

 

“You, actually,” she laughs. Her laughter reminds him of the warmth of his childhood home or the calmness of the sky after a storm. It has the ability to calm him. Which is insane, he knows, because he’s only just met her but it’s true. “Well, the war. I’m here to help.”

 

“So you’ve said.”

 

“Is it so hard to believe?” She asks, a playful lilt to her voice.

 

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “I’ve never met anyone who only wanted to help.”

 

She smiles, shifts her chair closer to his slowly, scraping it against the marble tiles. “I must be special, then,” she breathes and he’s suddenly unaware of everything around them. It’s as if it fades into nothingness, a reality where all that exists is him and the alluring woman in front of him.

 

“Must be,” he echoes, clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from her but he can still see her smiling from the corner of his eye.

 

She surprises him, then. Leans in even closer, so that her shoulder is against hers and her breath starts mingling with his. “Do you want to get out of here?” She asks sweetly, innocent almost, but he knows exactly what she’s asking and it makes his pulse race. Her fingers find their way to his shoulder, coming to rest.

 

He swallows thickly, “Right now? Are you sure?” She’s made him uncertain and that’s one thing he’s never been before. She’s made him nervous and that’s another.

 

“Are you not interested?” Veronica scoffs, already knows the answer to that question— he can tell.

 

Archie shakes his head rapidly, eyes lingering on the birthmark on her left shoulder. It looks like a misshapen heart, remnants of something incredible. He sighs, taking in a deep breath. “It’s just..” She’s waiting for an answer, breath hitched and eyes glistening under poorly hung fairy lights. “You seem like trouble.”

 

She seems like she could break him.

 

Veronica’s smile doesn’t falter, it widens instead, morphs into an amused grin. “When has that ever stopped you before?” She laughs. She’s right and they both know it.

 

She kisses him before he can argue, before he can come up with a retort and he gives in so quickly, so easily. He could never kiss a solar flare but he imagines it would feel similar to this. The same as brushing his bloodied, scarred lips against hers for the briefest moment.

 

She’s taken him to heaven and hell, the depths of each with a simple kiss.

 

He’s done for.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes no time at all for him to become intrigued by her; completely enthralled by her beauty and grace.

 

She’s an enigma he wants to solve, needs to solve; a blur of bruises left by lovers and blood red lips and everything he’s never been. She’s the only thing he ever thinks about now that he’s met her.

 

Because now that he’s seen her, now that he’s had a taste of her captivating ways he can’t stop. He’s intoxicated, unstoppable.

 

She resurfaces every now and then, appears on his battlefield and enchants wounded soldiers, saves them in ways winning a war never could.

 

She tells him stories of all the hearts she’s broken, the ones she’s mended and he watches her with the bewilderment of a child. She sees the world in such a different way; only recognizes the love and happiness it has to offer where all he sees is corruption and darkness.

 

They’re at a bar one night, he’s chasing down the bitter taste of iron and she’s laughing; recollecting a story he hasn’t been paying much attention to, too lost in the light of her smile. On a day like today, when the ground is scorching and the sweat is dripping down his back, her smile could still make the sunlight seem dim; it's brightness eclipsed by the radiance of her smile.

 

“You’re staring,” she observes and he has to laugh, did she really expect any different?

 

“So is everyone in here,” he informs her and she sighs, concedes defeats without even having to look around. “You don’t seem surprised,” he muses.

 

She laughs, warm and honey-like, sending shivers through his entire body. “I am the goddess of love, after all,” she smiles. “My boyfriend always tells me to ignore them, but I’m nothing if not persuasive.”

 

Boyfriend.

 

He does a double take, almost falls out of his chair in the process. He’s not sure why he’s surprised, of course, she has one, look at her. She’s the most breathtakingly stunning woman he has ever seen.

 

Her beauty could put the stars to shame.

 

He dilutes the burning in his chest with a glass of the strongest thing they have. And then another and another. Until he can barely see straight. Still, even in his intoxicated state, he can make out the flawless features of her face, the curves of her waist and the way her smile always reaches her eyes.

 

He doesn’t let the sudden heaviness in his chest stop him from kissing her senseless in the darkness of the alley outside.

 

* * *

  

“I’m not looking for anything serious,” she reminds him. They’re lying in his bed, wind blowing through the open sky roof and stars shining up above them. She can barely see his face in the darkness but her fingers trace his lips and she can tell he’s smiling.

 

Archie isn’t like any lover she’s had before. For all his talk of misery and bloodshed, for all the time he puts into making sure everyone knows just how reckless he is, it surprises her to find out that he cares. Genuinely.

 

About her and a million other things. Clings to the moments they share and to her and she almost wants to drown in the feeling. It’s what she thrives off of. It’s also a problem because there’s a difference between lust and love and she’s not sure he can tell where the line is.

 

She‘s not sure she wants to tell him.

 

“Neither am I,” he responds, his smile ever present even in the black of the room.

 

* * *

 

He starts another war eventually. And another and another; battered bodies and grey skies swarming with thunder and lightning. It’s who he is; a fighter. Bloodied knuckles and split lips and weapons weighing him down. Maybe because it’s the life he’s been tied to and he’s nothing if not dedicated. Or maybe his emotions are running rampant and it’s the only outlet he has.

 

They’re in the middle of nowhere today, sequestered behind an expanse of mountains and trenches, caught in the middle of a raging storm. “Four killed and sixteen wounded,” a voice tells him. Jughead. The sky is starting to clear but the ground is still soaked, a mixture of water and dirt and blood. “It’s bad.”

 

“I know,” Archie assures him. The numbers are easy to forget, they get lost and it’s hard to keep track but the names stay with him forever. He remembers every one of them, every person he convinced to fight for him that ended up dead because of it. “It’s better than last time, though. And it’ll be better next time.”

 

“Is Veronica coming by today?” Jughead asks. It catches him off guard.

 

She’s been showing up more often, helping out whenever they need it. His own personal guardian angel. Not that he needs one. Not that he’s complaining either because it means spending more time with her and he craves it the way an addict craves their kryptonite.

 

“What?” He asks, automatically shifting to a more agonistic tone. “I don’t know. Why would I?”

 

“You’re falling for her,” Jughead says matter of factly. Like there’s no question to it. He might be right.

 

Still, Archie would never let him know that. “I’m not,” he says, shaking his head. The wind is picking up again as the clouds shift. The storm isn’t over yet.

 

“You were always a bad liar.”

 

“I-“ he protests, but stops halfway through because he can’t respond or because he gets cut off or maybe both. He isn’t sure.

 

“Just... be careful, okay?” Archie nods.

 

* * *

 

Reggie doesn’t show up. They’re supposed to get dinner together; the first night they’ve had to themselves in months and he doesn’t show. Leaves her sitting at an

empty table for nearly an hour, hoping he’ll arrive and that she won’t have to be as humiliated as she feels.

 

She calls Archie on her way out of the restaurant, mentions how she’s having a horrible night and she could use the company. He’s waiting on her doorstep when she gets home.

 

He doesn’t ask about it, surprisingly. Doesn’t mention the heaviness in the air or the fact that she’d been the worst company ever all night.

 

“You deserve better,” he says as her eyes are drifting shut. She has no idea what he’s talking about, takes her a full minute to even register that he’s said something. She does eventually.

 

“And that would be what exactly?” She asks dryly, swallows. “You?”

 

“Maybe,” Archie scoffs, shakes his head. “Maybe not. But it’s not him.”

 

* * *

 

“I got you something,” he whispers to her, rummages through his drawer as he does. She looks at him pointedly as he pulls a velvet box out of the drawer.

 

“It’s not an engagement ring, right?” She scoffs, only half-joking.

 

“Not today,” he chuckles and places the box in the palm of her hand. She opens it carefully, slowly. It’s a locket, a silver heart-shaped one with a little message inscribed on the back. “It’s not much, I know, but I saw it and I thought of you and… do you hate it?” He asks; she hasn’t said anything since he handed it to her.

 

“No, I... It’s beautiful,” she whispers, sliding the thin chain over her fingers. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

He cares more and more every day, barely even tries to hide it. She pretends to be oblivious to it all; getting attached is never a good idea.

 

She knows better.

 

If she didn’t her heart might skip a beat and it might feel like there is a swarm of butterflies in her stomach moving around every time she sees him. She might spend the night and let him make her breakfast every once in a while just so she can have those few minutes right after dawn where everything is still and Archie’s asleep and as breathtaking as ever. She might even let him say things like how much he missed her after a long day or how much he wants to see her.

 

But she knows better.

 

“I’m getting weaker,” he tells her one night. It sounds like an accusation. It is. “Having you out there... on the field. It’s making me question my decisions, second guess myself.”

 

“Hmm,” she says knowingly, ignoring the gravity of his words. “Almost as if you shouldn’t be out there in the first place, huh?” She smirks up at him and he lets out a hearty laugh.

 

“Almost.” He drops his shoulders, sighs. “‘I’m getting weaker.”

 

She laughs then, wholeheartedly, doesn’t understand how he could see this as a problem. “I’m sorry,” she tells him, can’t even say it with a straight face.

 

“You should be,” he huffs, “it’s your fault.”

 

* * *

 

She’s the first thing he sees when he opens the door, the only thing he sees. He kisses her on a warm summer morning in the middle of the street even though they’re supposed to be a secret. He kisses her passionately and it feels like fire, like being set alight and feeding off the flames. The ground smells like dew and they get caught in a whirlwind of pink petals.

 

His mind feels numb.

 

Her fingers coil into his shirt and he grips onto her waist to steady her or himself or both of them. “Archie,” she purrs, pulling him in behind closed doors, carelessly runs her fingers through his hair. He pulls her in once more, kisses her again because it’s never enough. No, how could it be? “Hi,” she mumbles, looking up at him with her lower lip pulled between her teeth.

 

“Hi,” he laughs, leaning in again but she shakes her head hesitantly.

 

“I have somewhere to be,” she sighs.

 

“Don’t you think coming here to tell me you can’t be here is a bit cruel?” He asks. Veronica giggles, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him hastily.

 

“That’s not why I came here.” She’s running her fingers through his hair, ruffling it around. Her eyes are gleaming in the daylight and it makes him feel excited about everything and nothing. His grip on her waist tightens making her laugh. “Are you free tonight?” She asks with a grin.

 

He’s taken off guard by the question. She’s always doing that; surprising him. He enjoys it and her so much more than he ever expected to. He leans in closer, brushing her hair behind her ear. He presses his lips to her ear, whispers, “but tonight is so far away.”

 

Veronica takes a step back, watches him with a knowing smirk. “That wasn’t exactly an answer.”

 

"I'm free. Definitely," Archie assures her, closing the gap between them once again. "I'm always free for you."

 

* * *

 

 

She does it on impulse, a split second decision because she feels like it and then it’s happening and it almost feels empowering.

 

Archie’s the first person she goes to see, of course, he is, that much doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. “I left him,” she tells him, smiling up at him, watching the confusion in his eyes. At her ambiguity, at her being here in the first place, at all of it.

 

“Who?”

 

“Reggie,” she sighs.

 

“Oh,” he drops his shoulders, a small smile playing at his lips. Damn him. “You did?”

 

“I did,” she replies firmly, wishes she could wipe the smug look off his face. He leans in to kiss her and she shakes her head disapprovingly. “Not because of you,” Veronica insists.

 

Archie laughs slyly, “of course not.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

 

“Oh, I know,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her again. This time she lets him. She hates the effect he has on her. She hates that he can make her feel like this with just one look.

 

“Then stop looking at me like that,” she tells him, folds her arms in front of her chest.

 

“Like what?” He asks defensively. Veronica scoffs.

 

“Like I’m yours.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles, genuine as ever. She hates him. Really, she does. Hates how pleased he is with himself in this moment.

 

“Because I’m not,” she states.

 

“I know,” he assures her. “Really.”

 

“Good,” she lets out a deep breath, drops her shoulders as he steps out of the doorway. “As long as we’re clear.”   


“Crystal.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Would you walk away from this with me?” He asks, voice small and barely audible. Veronica looks at him questioningly and he sighs, drops his shoulders. “I love you,” He whispers, the sun is setting and they’re sitting on a hill overlooking an empty field. They finally won a war and it’s because she was there the whole time, encouraging everyone and saving lives and making him stronger.

  
Of course, he loves her.

  
He loves the way she makes him feel talking about nothing relevant in the early hours of the morning. Loves that as many lovers as she brings to her bed, as many lives as she alters by simply breathing, she relies upon no one besides herself.

  
There’s a wicked reverence in the way she whispers his name, a darkness in the way her fingers trace his bloody scars. A sacred ground between the two of them and their beating hearts and that’s the reason he loves her.

  
She stares at him for a full minute before she chuckles, “you’re insane.”

  
“I’m serious,” he sighs, takes in a deep breath. “You had to have known.”

  
“Archie,” she sighs, brushes his chin with the back of her hand. “I know you,” she says softly. “You‘re too hot-headed to even understand what love is.” His fist clenches along with his jaw and she places a warm hand over his. “I mean it in the best way, I promise. You have no idea how many times I’ve been in love, how much it hurts, how reckless it makes you. Count it as a blessing that you’re not capable of it.”

  
“I thought the goddess of love was supposed to encourage love?” He scoffs.

  
She shrugs, “I thought the god of war was supposed to avoid it at all costs.” She rests her head on his shoulder and they watch the field clear, the stars light up the sky and her breathing slows down, starts to become rhythmic as her fatigue catches up with her.

  
“Is it that I’m not capable of love?” he says out of the blue, before she’s pulled into oblivion. “Or that you’re not?”

  
“What?” Veronica asks, confused, uncertain if she had heard him correctly. She swallows thickly. “What does that mean?”

  
“Nothing,” Archie mutters, shakes his head. She can see the wheels turning up there. “Don’t you think it’s strange,” he scoffs. “You kissed me, Ronnie! You’re the one who started all of this and then told me you had a boyfriend. Then you broke up with him but you said it’s not because of me.”

  
“What about it, Archie?”

  
“Nothing,” he repeats, scoffs. “Just don’t say that I’m not capable of love just because you’re scared of it.”

  
“That’s not what I’m doing,” she whispers. The air’s gone cold and his throat feels dry waiting for her to say something else. “I told you I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

  
Archie nods; his feeble attempts at trying to be okay with this and where he knows it’s going. “Yeah, you’re right, you did,” he shakes his head, his hands shifting out her grasp. “I guess I thought things had changed.”

  
She swallows. “I like you, Archie. A lot.”

  
“I don’t think that’s enough,” he sighs.

  
She laughs, slowly taking in the expression on his face. “You’re being serious?” She asks, scoffs.

  
“I am,” he says softly, laughs sourly. He looks hurt, it’s open and there for her to see. He lets her see it for a few seconds before he pushes it away and nods, “Maybe you should go,” Archie mutters.

  
“Yeah,” Veronica laughs. It’s not like before— it’s cold and bitter and biting. “I think I should.”

  
She brushes past him then and leaves.

  
She doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

 

The news comes to him in the form of an envelope left on his doorstep. The necklace he’d gotten her what seems like forever ago. A neat ‘xoxo’ scribbled on the back. At first, he thinks it’s a goodbye, her way of saying they’re through. It’s been nearly a week. But there’s a note in there too, not a goodbye.

  
A threat.

  
He’s banging on Reggie’s door as soon as he gets there, the middle of the night, knuckles bruised from how hard he’s been going at it. “What?” Reggie groans, answering the door half drunk, half asleep.

  
“Do you know where she is?” He shouts. Archie strides past Reggie and into his apartment, before coming to a stop right in front of him. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving and face burning almost red.

  
“Who?” Reggie mumbles, shutting the door behind them.

  
“Veronica, who else?” He asks bitterly. Reggie narrows his eyes, watches Archie pointedly.

  
“I haven’t seen her in weeks,” Reggie murmurs. “No thanks to you.”

  
“Neither have I,” Archie rubs his temples slowly. “This showed up a while ago.” He hands Reggie the note, keeps the necklace safe in his back pocket.

  
“Shit,” Reggie sighs, leans on the wall for support. “Shit,” he repeats. “It’s a joke, right? I mean she has to be-“

  
“Fine?” Archie asks, scoffs. “No one’s seen her in days. If it’s a joke it’s a sick one.”

  
“So you’re saying she’s been, what, kidnapped?” Reggie asks sarcastically. He tries to laugh it off but he sounds almost as terrified as Archie feels.

  
“Shit,” Archie echoes, stares at nothing in particular for a minute; the note in his shaking hand, a hole in the wall behind Reggie, something else.

  
Then he leaves. 

 

* * *

 

 

She has no idea where she is when she finally comes to.

  
All she feels in pain.

  
Blinding.

  
Her head is throbbing, so much so that she uses up most of her strength in trying to lift it up long enough to swallow in her surroundings. Feels like someone’s cracked her skull open.

  
The ropes around her wrists are incredibly tight, turning her skin red and raw every time she tries to shuffle out of them.

  
She barely remembers anything of how exactly she ended up in like this. Only remembers being hurt and upset and aimlessly walking around for hours to try and gain some perspective.

  
She groans in pain, let’s out a muffled sob. It’s almost pitch black in here, save for some light coming through a crack in the ceiling, but she can feel her blood trickling a trail down the side of her face. She’s grateful for that at least; that it’s so dark in here. Thinks even the smallest flash of light might make her brain explode.

  
As if on cue, though, the room becomes visibly brighter; a spotlight aimed at her. Her eyes shut on instinct, try to put an end to the throbbing. It’s so bright she can’t see anything.

  
Then footsteps.

  
Veronica forces her eyes open for the briefest of seconds but it’s either too bright or too dark or both. The footsteps are getting louder but they stop altogether a few meters away; the perfect spot where the light ends and everything else is so dark she can’t even make out how big the room is. She waits for the figure to step into the light but it doesn’t move.

  
“Who are you?” she asks, voice hoarse and dry. Her throat feels like sandpaper. She wonders how long it’s been; how many hours, how many days. It feels like ages. “What do you want?”

  
“I’ve already gone about getting what I want,” the figure tells her. A man. Unfamiliar.

  
“Who are you?” She repeats. Her throat hurts and there’s something else trickling down her face, not blood but just as wet and just as painful.

  
The man takes a step forward.

  
He looks the same as Veronica remembers. Dark hair, eyes that have always had a hint of crazy in them. There’s a smile on his face, a sick venomous grin directed at her that makes her hair stand on end. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he says. He doesn’t sound the same as the boy she grew up with.

  
“Nick?”

  
There’s something in his hand, metal and catching the light. He plays with it, passes it from hand to the other and spins it around carelessly. She feels like she’s going to be sick.

  
“I’m sorry it had to be you, babe,” he says sadistically. Sounds like an actual psychopath; sick and malevolent and rambling. “I needed to get your friends attention and you seem to be the only thing he cares about, aside from being a raging lunatic,” he scoffs, rolls his eyes and catches the gun in his left hand.

  
“Archie?” She asks pointedly and Nick nods. “He… We’re not… He won’t come for me,” she swallows.

  
“He just needs some incentive,” he laughs, lifts the weight in his hands and points it squarely at her.

  
Veronica closes her eyes and waits.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :)  
> Please leave a comment if you can I'd love to know what you think


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